The Keyhole
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Loki's frightening nightmare might be more than just a dream. Tag for "The Lokistone"


_In response to the uncertainty and sense of looming fate we all feel on the eve of the first Thor II trailer, and before the film itself._

_Enjoy._

_VVV_

THE KEYHOLE

Alydia Rackham

"_Winds in the east_

_Mist coming in_

_Like something is brewing, about to begin…_

_Can't put my finger on what lies in store_

_But I feel what's to happen_

_All happened before…"_

_-Richard and Robert Sherman_

_VVVVV_

"Jane. _Jane_."

Jane frowned. Shivered. Opened her eyes and blinked at the red digital lights on the clock on her nightstand.

_3:30_

_Tap-tap-tap_.

She sat up, sucking in her breath, and twisted around in bed to squint through the darkness at the door to her bedroom. For just an instant, her orientation spun—she couldn't remember where she was.

Then it hit her.

"Oh, right." She put a hand to her forehead. She was in a closet-of-a-bedroom on the third floor of Tony Stark's remote north eastern vacation home. She paused, listening to her heartbeat—feeling it beat in that new, strong, unnerving way. She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the edges of the raised, spidery black veins that now marked her skin…

"_Jane_."

Her heartbeat jumped—responded. And at the same instant, the violet stone resting on her breastbone heated like a coal. Its warmth shocked her, but flowed through her like breathing. That voice had suddenly become as familiar as her marrow.

"Loki?" she whispered back, shoving her blankets off her legs and sliding out of bed with a rustle. She grabbed her robe and threw it on, then hurried across the wood floor. She gripped the doorknob, twisted it and pulled the door open.

"What—"

A white hand snaked through and grasped her wrist—lightly, gently—but before she knew it, she was spirited between the door and the doorframe and out into the hall.

"Woah, wait, wait—" she gasped, blinking. "I can't see anything."

"I have you," Loki assured her, his hands gripping her upper arms. She caught her balance, feeling his form towering over her. She reflexively reached out and touched his homespun shirt.

"What's the matter?" she asked, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn't hear. "It's three in the morning!"

He hesitated. She heard him swallow.

And the thumb of his left hand trembled.

She searched the blackness above her for his face, curling her fingers around his shirt.

"Hey," she said, brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"

He still said nothing. But the low quivering in his hand traveled up his arm, until she could feel his whole body trembling.

"Jane?" he murmured—and it cut straight through her.

"I'm here…!" Jane said earnestly. She fumbled with both hands and found his shoulders, then tugged him down toward her. He gave way, shuddering—bending into her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

He released a heavy sigh, binding her up in his own arms, holding her to his chest. She sensed his breath shaking against her throat—his nose and cheek felt cold.

Jane's eyebrows drew together sharply, and she took a fistful of his crisp, feathery hair.

"Oh, Hel and all her hounds," he muttered—his voice watery and unsteady. He sniffed and straightened up, then pressed his chin to her head. Jane nuzzled her forehead against his chest, slipping her arms down to wrap hard around his waist. Again, he fell silent—and Jane could feel his heart pounding through her skull.

She had never held him like this. She hadn't held him that often, _period_. Just twice before—once after they had both nearly been killed, and another time when he had proposed to her. The flash-flood of events since their first meeting mere weeks ago still spun Jane's mind sideways. And in moments like these, when the truth and scope of it all hit her, she could hardly restrain her terror.

She could only imagine how _he _felt.

"Sometimes, back in Asgard," Loki said, his voice hoarse and quiet. "For as long as I can remember, Thor would have terrible nightmares. His thrashing would wake me, no matter where I was. I could never sleep through it. So I would climb out of my crib, or bed, or tower, or wherever I happened to be, and find him. I would open his door and sit in the corridor with a small green light floating over my head, until he woke up, came out, and told me what he had dreamt."

Jane turned her head just a little, so she could talk.

"What did he dream about?"

"Himself. But…_not _himself. And me. But _not _me," Loki murmured. "Most often, his visions were jumbled, confusing—but always terrifying. They frightened him, because they seemed so real. Even as a man, they plagued him. And I could never explain them to him. I never understood their source. Until now."

Loki went very still.

Jane stiffened.

"The rips in the fabric!" she breathed.

"Even when we were boys, it must have already begun to fray," Loki answered.

"So…" Jane ventured, wide eyes staring at the blackness. "Did Thor wake up just now? Did he have a dream?"

"No," Loki whispered. "I did."

Her head came up. His chin lifted off her. She tried to see him again. Couldn't.

"What? What about?" she demanded.

He stood silent for a good minute. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, back and forth, across her shoulder blade. Finally, he drew a long, slow breath.

"I was standing in a stone tower. I've never been there in my life. It had a single window, and a single door. And I could hear sounds coming through the door." His hands stilled—his whole body stood breathless. "I went to the door, and tried to open it, but it was locked. So I bent, and looked through the key hole. It was a large key hole, enough so I could see…everything."

Jane stared up at him, still unable to see him, listening to every movement of his voice.

"I saw…Confusion. Battle, in the sky. Chaos in Asgard. I saw Thor—I saw _you_, with _him_. Standing in the center of a street." His fingers closed around the back of her robe. "Lady Sif, fighting hand-to-hand. Myself—imprisoned, and stripped of my armor. My brother promising to kill me."

Jane heard him swallow again—felt icy coldness seep out of his frame and into hers.

"I see you, in the center of a whirlwind," he went on, barely audible. "Captive to someone ancient and—familiar. And Thor is trying to reach you, to save you, but he cannot…" Loki pressed his lips to the top of her head and spoke against her hair. "But _I _could. If I simply _knew_."

"You think you're seeing through, to another line?" Jane asked, her pulse hammering.

"I'm certain I am," he shivered. "And Jane—I don't know how, but I'm _certain _that tower is real."

"Then we have to find it."

Loki stopped, then backed up a little—she could sense his eyes on her. And instantly, she knew _he _could see _her_. She looked fervently up toward him.

"We already know what we have to do," she went on. "We have to find a way to get the Lokistone through to them."

"You think the pack of wolves downstairs is going to let you and me go traipsing across Midgard looking for a tower I saw in a dream?" he said flatly. She knew he was lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm not scared of them," Jane retorted. "And they can come along too, if they absolutely have to."

"Romanov will never—"

"Romanov can bite me," Jane snapped. "Bring it."

Loki laughed—low and rasping, with a charmingly-wicked edge. Jane grinned in response, relieved that the trembling had gone from his body.

"_I'm _frightened of you," Loki admitted.

"You should be," Jane nodded. She reached up, and rubbed her hand briskly back and forth across his chest, trying to infuse it with some warmth. "Now, give me a kiss and go back to bed, and we'll talk about it in the morning. Everything will be okay. Promise."

His bearing became soft, thoughtful.

"You want me to kiss you?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Yes," she said lightly, hoping he at least couldn't see her blush. "I think I deserve it, after being woken up at three in the morning."

His gentle hands slid up to cradle her face.

She caught hold of his wrists, surprised…

She felt his nose touch hers…

His head tilted toward the left…

And then he kissed her.

Softly. Purposefully.

His mouth lingered against hers in a warm, earnest, pure manner that left her entirely breathless.

He stroked her cheeks, then drew back. His mouth broke from hers. Her lips felt cold without him. Briefly, he pressed his forehead against her head.

"Thank you, Jane Foster."

"I love you," Jane said.

His frame shivered—in an entirely different fashion. He ducked, and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she answered.

And he was gone.

Jane wrapped her arms around herself, then reached up to clasp the Lokistone necklace. She bit her lip as shadows loomed in her mind…

But then the Lokistone grew warm in her palm, and she lowered her head, and smiled.

FIN


End file.
